Page 44 of Unmasking Mr. Crown

Natalie chose a seat which gave her a view of both the skyline and the entrance. A server approached but she waved him off. She wanted to wait for Blaine. Scanning the room, she found women in denim, and women dressed for Paris Fashion Week.

We were both right, Noah.

Then she spotted it: a huge black scuff mark on the toe strap of her left shoe.

Unreal! Will shoes ever stop betraying me?

And just like that, her mind shot to London.

Oh, Mr. Crown. You’d love this place. This is your vibe.

And thanks to your pocket watch, you’d be right on time.

Natalie checked the time. Okay, so technically this guy was only five minutes late, but first impressions still meant something in her mind. She flipped through the wine book a second time, then pulled her phone from her purse. A barrage of texts from Noah were waiting. As she read through each one, her smile grew.

Noah: Are you there?

Noah: Mork calling Orson!

Noah: Order a No Man's Land. They make their own Grenadine!! #todiefor

Noah: Do the sexy hair flip!

Noah: Sneak into the Ladies Room and CALL ME!

She slipped her phone into her purse with a groan just as the server returned. That little shit. Does Blaine think this is a date-date? Oh, Noah, you and I are gonna have a long talk later.

“Something while you wait? Water? Pellegrino?"

“You know what? A vodka martini. No veggies.”

The man bowed his head in acknowledgment. He’d no sooner stepped out of view when another server arrived with her drink.

“But how?” Natalie asked him, glancing around in confusion. “Was he wearing a headset or something? Y’all are like an Indy pit crew.”

The second server just smiled and continued on. Natalie took a sip, her eyes scanning the entire bar. She spied a tall man near the hostess stand. Dark suit. Confident posture.

That’s gotta be him.

Their eyes met and he smiled. But the connection lasted only a second as he cruised past her table and joined a group already assembled in the corner.

Damn.

Natalie waited another ten minutes, slowly sipping her martini. She texted her dad.

Natalie: Guess who just got stood up?

Pop: Not my best girl

Natalie: Yep. At one of the best bars in Chicago.

Pop: Name him. We’ll have a little talk.

Natalie: You’d love that.

Pop: Papa Bear fury.

Natalie: